We're Human
by Serria
Summary: After Quatre's devastating Wing Zero experience, he and Heero are taken into OZ custody. There, the wrecked Quatre deals both physically and mentally with the consequences of his actions, and wonders what the war has turned him into. Rated for language.


**We're Human**

Rated: PG13 for foul, foul language and some violence**  
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:Author's Notes: This fic takes place directly after Quatre's Wing Zero experience, when he and Heero have finished their battle, and get taken into custody by OZ.

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, I don't own the Gundam Wing or any of the pilots, but I don't need to in order to write crazy drama psycho Quatre fics. Also I don't own the song, which is "Zombie" by the Cranberries.

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_  
Another head hands lowly,_

_Child is slowly taken._

_And the violence caused such silence_

_Who are we mistaken?_

_Oh... Did... Did I really? _A freezing numbness enveloped me. At first, I didn't move, I simply stared wide-eyed at the ceiling of the cursed Gundam, lying on my back. Then my fingers began to tremble, my hands began to shake, I admitted short, quick gasps of breath. _What have I done? _Two Gundams had crashed into a colony. One was mine. The other contained Heero, unconcious in a wreck of a Gundam. I did that.

I scrambled to my feet, stunned and horrified. The dock around me was cold steel, dead and lifeless except for the two mechanical beings, and the one that was mine was _it._ The Wing Zero. That made the dock even more dead and lifeless. That's what the Wing Zero did best after all. How many lives had it taken today?

No.

How many lives...

...Had_ I _taken?

My eyes locked onto it, and I gave an involuntary step back. My pale hands covered my mouth as in terror, I fully recalled everything I had done.

_"**Outer space has gone crazy! That's why I'm gonna destroy it all**!"_ That couldn't have been me. It couldn't!

"_**You guys are afraid to die, aren't you... in that case, you shouldn't be fighting at all**!"_ Oh, please, no. Please!

_"**That's funny... I seem to have tears in my eyes. But I don't feel sad at all**."_

Don't feel... I don't feel... I don't... The Wing Zero. That terror of outer space, his empty figure, his power. His aura of destruction and murder. Wing Zero's aura? Or mine?

My knees felt weak as I stared, blankly, and then they gave in. I fell, choking back a sob. _That couldn't have been me, oh please, Gods, no. I'm... Quatre Raberba Winner. I would never take a life unless it was absolutely necessary. Right? ...Right?_

No. No. Oh, gods, no. No mistake. I heard the screams. My space heart was filled with the emotions of all of my victims as they bled and died. Or died, before they even got to bleed. I felt their desperate fear as they saw my beam cannon rise to their ships, as the beam flew their way. Twin Buster Rifle, Machine Cannon, Wing Vulcan. Level 150 fighting ability, and 140 power. A war god among mecha. It sliced through shuttles like a machete through warm butter. I _knew_. I knew because ... I could feel their minds begging for mercy, mentally whispering that they loved their spouses, children, family. They didn't want to die, they were so afraid. But they also couldn't give in. They followed their orders so blindly, defended their organization so faithfully, that they would face Wing Zero without surrender.

I had not offered them surrender.

It slices through shuttles like a machete through warm butter... it destroys entire colonies like ... What have I done?

I felt their bodies shut down, their souls slip away. There were so many victims that I didn't even bother trying to count, nor estimate. Heero was there. He was trying to stop me. Trowa... Trowa's life was among my victims.

Outer space has gone crazy... it's... it's...

Blinking my eyes and shaking like mad, I ran over to Heero's Gundam. I opened the hatch and unstrapped him, pulling his body out. He was breathing, that was good. I dragged him down to the ground and sat by him, holding his head on my lap. _Please be okay Heero. Please, please, please..._

But even then I could hear his voice. _"Quatre. I'll kill you_."

What have I done?

_But you see, it's not me._

_It's not my family._

_In your head, in your head, they are fighting!_

_With their tanks, and their bombs_

_And their bombs, and their guns_

_In your head, in your head, they are crying!_

"Hands in the air, _right now_!" the OZ soldier yelled. The rage in his voice shook, and his gun was pointed at Heero and me. The angry unsteadiness of his fingers made me not sure if he wasn't planning on shooting after all.

It was dreamlike. Defeated ever since I left the seat of Wing Zero, I raised my hands in the air, my eyes blank and downcast.

Heero merely glared at me, blood-red anger matching that of the OZ soldier.

"You too, and I mean _immediately,_ you little shit!" The gun aimed to Heero's head. "I can and will kill you, you goddam Gundam pilots." Wild red eyes fired at Heero. "Were you the pilot of the new Gundam, you fuckin' murderer?"

Heero's bloodthirsty gaze ripped to the OZ soldier, but softly, it was I who answered. "It was me." The other pilot clenched his fists, then slowly raised his hands in the air, too.

"Restrain them and bring them here!" the captain barked.

A group of soldiers quickly approached us. I was grabbed by my light blonde hair, already in disarray and caked in blood from the previous battles, and yanked to my feet. I did not struggle, and I did not raise my eyes. _I deserve everything that they do to me, and more. No punishment can redeem me_. The soldier in front of me, a tall man with raven hair and a fierce hatred etched on his face, then grabbed me by my throat, forcing my dead eyes to look into his own livid brown. "My wife was on the colony that you blew up. You murdered her!" His knuckles formed into a large, iron fist, and with a sickening thud it hit my stomach. I lost my balance, feeling even more numb and weak than ever, but I was stopped from the fall by a grab to my throat again. As soon as I was on my feet again, I was punched in the face. On the man's finger there was a ring, a wedding wing I suppose, and on it some sort of jewel. The jewel was a razor to my face and my bottom lip was split. The black-haired man smiled as the blood trickled down my face, and punched me again, and again.

"Don't kill him yet, Roku!" another soldier advised half-heartedly. "He'll need to be questioned."

"I don't wanna hear anything from this son of a bitch!" Roku slapped me across the face with a stinging blow of his hand. I uttered my first sound, a little gasp of breath. "No, maybe I do..." His hands were at my shoulders, nails digging into my neck as he shook me. "Why! How the hell could any human do that! Are you fucking happy now, you little terrorist? You fucking Gundam pilots! I'll fucking make sure you pay!"

I couldn't breath; he was strangling me. Small tears formed at my eyes as he screamed. I hated myself even more than he could ever possibly hate me.

Another set of rough hands tore Roku's off my throat, and jerked my thin wrists behind my back. Handcuffs were placed on them, and were tightened as far as my arms would allow. I was shoved forward, and I felt the tip of a gun on my back, probably indicating that I should walk. I blinked my eyes slowly, not wanting to betray my empty expression by letting the tears fall down my cheeks. When my eyes had cleared I saw the captain in front of me, and Heero already standing there, tall and defiant, not looking at me. Everyone else was.

_In your head, in your head_

_Zombie, zombie, zombie!_

_In your head, what's in your head?_

_Zombie, zombie, zombie!_

The sergeant stared at me in puzzlement as I stood weakly before him. A tall man, I think. Imposing, maybe. It was all so surreal, I could hardly take in the information around me.

"This is the terrorist, Captain?" he asked in a deep, low voice, raised slightly in mild puzzlement. He had an accent of some sort, something Eastern European. His hands rested casually behind his back, and he wore an elaborate red OZ uniform. That OZ uniform could have been a knife to my throat, it meant the same thing to someone like me. A murderer like me.

"It is." The captain shoved me forward, and I stumbled, falling to my knees. I bowed my head, my gaze upon the sergeant's leather boots.

"By Jesus." The sergeant mused, then took my arm, roughly pulling me up. "It's just a kid. How old are you, kid?"

I turned my face away, deciding long ago that I couldn't say anything.

"The bastard has not said a word yet," growled the Captain.

The tall man's rugged face was twisted into disbelief. "Just a boy. Same age as my son. A kid, for chrissake."

"A Gundam pilot. He'd murder your son if you gave him a gun, sir."

The words stung, even though I thought that I had fully prepared myself for anything they might say. My eyes began to water. Maybe it was true. Maybe I would kill anything and anyone if given a weapon, and I would hide behind my shield of supposed pacifism. What was wrong with me?

"The crew wants his death more than anything," the captain continued. "Don't go feeling sorry for him because of his age, sir."

The sergeant said nothing for a moment, simply watching me. "Tears?" he softly commented. "Poor, misguided boy. Didn't you realize that you were playing with fire?" He put his hand under my chin, turning my face to him.

He thought my eyes were wet because I was afraid to die?

"You're so small. They say the mysterious new Gundam pilot has been on the rampage for days now. I'm wondering now, how such a thin, quiet little boy could have done such a thing. You can't be older than fifteen, sixteen. And now you will be executed."

I jerked my head away from his touch. "Please." The words came out hoarsely from my sore throat.

"You want to die?" His eyebrows were raised.

My throat was dry, and I just stared at him. I found myself unable to comprehend his question. Of course I wanted to die. The way he was looking at me was one of shock and surprise, as if the news that I was a murderer was second rate compared to this.

The sergeant watched again, silent, then sighed. "Unfortunately you will get your wish, though not until we arrive at Moonbase. I am sorry. It breaks my heart to see a child be put to death, even if they are evil. Captain, take him to a cell." He turned away.

I was pushed in the other direction, and a gun was jammed to my back. "Walk!" he growled, and I obliged without a word.

I did not know where we were going, but I was lead into a room that didn't look like a cell at all. It more so resembled a locker room. It was full of soldiers sitting on benches. When the captain opened the door, all eyes were on me. "The sergeant was much too merciful."

The next, I don't know how many minutes, went by in a slow blur. Soldiers screamed at me, punched me, beat me bloody. Shrieked revenge for their loved ones I had killed, yelled and hit and kicked and slapped and punished. I knew, yes. I comprehended that my body was literally falling apart, but I didn't comprehend much else. I knew that my body was in pain, but it was a far off feeling. I was numb. It was all so far away. I was watching myself in an old television screen. I could not feel anything here or now. Here and now was a book written in a foreign language, and I could only guess the story from the pictures.

At the same time, something else inside of me felt so justified. This was my punishment. The blood that rained down from my broken, pale body, that was my payment. Let them hurt me, let me find salvation. Oh, god, oh Father, Trowa! What, oh what have I done?

The OZ soldiers surrounded me, turning what was once the small, agile, and strong shell of a Gundam pilot into raw meat. They screamed accusations at me, swore at me, called me a terrorist, called me evil. I could take that.

"You fucking little shit! How could you! How could you!"

"What the hell are you, a demon?"

"You'd better start praying for your sins, kid, because you are going to hell."

_You are going to hell_. The room was spinning. I hadn't uttered any sound besides a few gasps for breath. I kept my face blank and dead. _You are going to hell_.

_...I thought it was the right thing to do... _

_Another mother's breaking,_

_Heart is taken over._

_And when violence causes silence_

_We must be mistaken._

_It's the same old theme_

_Since nineteen-sixteen_

_In your head, in your head, they are fighting!_

The next thing I knew, the hard, cold steel floor of a prison cell greeted me to the face. My hands were handcuffed in front of me, and when I fell onto the ground, they pressed against my heaving chest. My head was spinning, and ever so gradually my pain receptors decided to start working again. I don't think that I had ever been beaten up to this extent. But it was nothing, absolutely nothing in comparison to what I had done, the sins I had committed, the pain I had been responsible for. Slowly, I forced myself upward into a sitting position.

"They did you over well," a cold voice spoke from a dark corner of the cell.

I had finally sat up, and I strained my eyes to the direction. "Heero?" The room was dark, only one tiny window on the side. It was some kind of rectangular shape, and not very large.

"Quatre," came the answer, both empty and almost sarcastic.

I turned my eyes away from him, my face probably red with shame if it wasn't already red with blood. I crawled in a pathetic manner to a wall, where I sat and leaned against it. I closed my eyes. Dully, and feeling just half awake, I spoke. "I'm sorry. I can't ask for forgiveness, I don't deserve it. But I wanted you to know that I'm sorry, anyway."

"Are you?" Heero had a tone of voice that I can't describe. Almost as if he believed me but did not care. "I bet you are. They've beaten your ass in. Did you tell them anything?"

"No. I don't think I'll be questioned until we reach Moonbase."

I could feel his smirk. Maybe he didn't move his face - I couldn't tell in the dark - but I felt it. "Something to look forward to."

"Yes," I answered softly, but with somewhat of a smile. It was the first one that I had released upon my lips in a very long time. "That's where they'll kill me." I wrapped my arms around my knees, bowing my head.

Heero was quiet, but I could sense his surprise. "Quatre..."

"I'm sorry... I know you wanted to kill me. If you can manage it, try it now if you like." I glanced at him, making out his form in the darkness. There he was, sitting calmly against the wall across from me.

"Shut up," he said with a dangerous growl. His voice was low and filled with malice. "You've just gone and put everyone - the colonies, the Gundam pilots, innocent humans - in a compromising situation. The ones you didn't kill, at least. So you're goddam well going to start making up for your mistakes, which means contributing fully to our escape."

I didn't answer. I couldn't tell if Heero's harsh statements were words spoken with hatred or with mercy.

After a dead pause, Heero spoke again. "Listen, Quatre. Trowa and Duo both seem to think that you don't go blowing up colonies on an everyday basis. Trowa believed that you were good to the end. He didn't stop believing that you were kind."

I stiffened, holding back a sob. "I guess I proved him wrong." I didn't want to cry, especially not in front of anyone, especially not in front of Heero. Ever since I was young, I had been a public figure, an heir to the Winner family. I always had to be strong. But it didn't matter anymore. It was over now. Tears threatened to roll down my cheeks, but I must've been too dead to allow them to fall. How I wanted to. "Trowa... I'm so sorry..."

Heero was suddenly standing in front of me, his foot on my bruised chest. "I said, _shut up_. You can feel sorry for yourself later. Trowa knew you considered him a friend, and he gave his life to make you sane. If you're going to throw that all away then I will beat you worse than any of those soldiers did."

I looked up at him, biting my already broken lip.

"What I was saying was, there's something wrong with that Gundam, I think. I don't trust it. I know from the design that it connects directly with the pilot's mind. Who knows what it could have done to you?" He's voice lacked emotion; that meant he was thinking rapidly.

"If we're being honest, Heero, then I refuse to blame Wing Zero. I did what I did. ...After Sandrock self-detonated, I met with my father and my sister. They were... killed by OZ. Everyone was happy that they died... they..." I was at a loss for words. I swallowed, continuing. "I really did go crazy, I think."

"Quatre..." A surprising sympathy was in his voice now.

"There are no excuses. Heero! I killed them all! And I didn't feel bad, not for a second. I'm going to hell, Heero! I'm going to hell when they execute me. Want to know what's funny? I never believed in hell before, because I didn't think that people were bad. I didn't believe that people were evil. If I believed that when I killed someone in a battle, that I was sending them to hell, I never would've done it. I killed because I thought it was necessary, and I was always sorry anyway. But now, when they were beating me, a soldier told me that I should pray because I'm going to hell. And I realized, it's true. I killed without caring, I killed everyone because I was trying to purify space. I killed innocents. That must be an evil act. I felt no remorse. I'm going to hell for certain. But... I think that's justified. I don't feel bad about that either because I deserve it. I-"

"_Stop_." Heero's hand had curled into a fist, and for a moment I thought he was going to go through with his threat of beating me up, but seemed to decide against it at the last moment. He sighed. "I don't care, Quatre. I don't care what you think, I don't care about your twisted perception on your judgement. It doesn't matter right now. Somehow, you and I are going to escape, and you're going to listen to me out of respect for Trowa's death. It's the least you can do."

Something flickered in my foggy eyes.

_With their tanks, and their bombs,_

_And their bombs and their guns_

_In your head, in your head, they are **dying...**_

My mouth opened, then closed. Then a surge of sudden emotion went through me like a jolt of electricity. I clenched my fists, pulling in vain against the handcuffs that restrained me. "And what do we do after we escape? Tell me that! The colonies don't want us anymore! My father's dead, my family has been marked traitor! I killed Trowa! Heero, I have nothing to fight for anymore!"

"That's not-"

"And what's _more_!" I interrupted, passion and despair flooding my words. "I have nothing _in me_ to fight anymore. I don't ever want to kill, or hurt, or _blow up_ anything, not ever again! It's not right, Heero! People are dying! They're dying! Who are we to pass judgement on who deserves to die! I've had my share of murder. I shouldn't have disobeyed my father!" The words flew out, and I found myself gasping from utter exhaustion. "I'm... I'm damned now."

I half expected Heero to hit me again, but instead he just stared at me with an icy softness in his eyes. There was a moment, and everything was still. Then he said, "We're not gods, Quatre. Gods are too fantastical for me to bother believing in. What we are is human."

Again it was quiet, a strange sort of quiet, and Heero sat down next to me. He sighed. I waited for him to speak again. When he did, his voice was oddly strained. "That's all the justification we need. We've had a long evolutionary history of acting on our feelings - we eat when we're hungry, sleep when we're tired, protect ourselves when we feel threatened."

"It costs the lives of others," I said quietly.

"Yes. But as long as we're alive, I think we're justified to try to defend that. Also we are justified to try and protect others who are alive. I'm defending the colonies because if OZ rules them, they will fall into poverty, and more people will die. It's what I feel is right, so I'm going to act on that feeling. It's a choice I've made, and one I'm willing to stand by even if there are gods who damn me in the afterlife for it."

I didn't know what to say, so I stared in the darkness. Finally I found my voice. "Is it right?"

"I don't know if war is right. War is all I know, but you'd have to be crazy to like it. Seeing what it does to the Earth and colonies, and seeing what it does to people... I'm going to end it. I'm going to destroy OZ as soon as I can, before more people get dragged into this."

'_War brings sorrow, but we must fight to keep our loves ones from the sorrow.' _... That was the note that I had left my father, right before I ran away and disappeared into Operation Meteor. _Heero's reason was my reason, too._ Maybe the other Gundam pilots were feeling the same way. Maybe every soldier in this war was feeling the same way. A sob finally escaped from my throat, and I buried my face in my knees. The tears fell down my cheeks. _I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..._

I felt something against my shoulder, and it startled me. Looking up, I saw that Heero had pushed himself next to me, and those Prussian blue eyes gently met my own. He said nothing, and I said nothing, I just looked at him through my tear-blurred vision. He lifted his hands, which were also handcuffed together in front of him, and he lowered his arms on top of me. They wrapped around my shoulders in a strong, soldier embrace.

Heero was giving me permission to cry. I followed the request, and I sobbed, laying my head against his chest. I cried. I cried for my father and my family, I cried for the people I had killed. I cried for the colonies that I had destroyed and for the dreams that had also been destroyed. I cried for the Earth, for the soldiers, for OZ. Trowa, Duo, Wufei, Treize, Zechs, the Maganacs. For Heero. For the war. For humanity as it has always been and always will be. And then, I did something that I had never allowed myself, not since I was a young child. I cried for me.

When I was done - it could've been an hour, it could've been a meager handful of seconds - there was tranquil quietness. I didn't know how to forgive myself yet, let alone win the forgiveness of those I had wronged. Maybe there was no forgiveness in war. But now I didn't want to die just yet. As long as I was alive, I had the right to fight. Even if no one had my back, if no one and no god would be there to tell me what the right thing to do was. I had to listen to my feelings like Heero, because when it comes down to it, our feelings are the only thing that war can't take from us. And it's those feelings that are what makes us human.

_In your head, in your head? _

_Zombie, zombie, zombie?_

_What's in your head, in your head?_

_Zombie, zombie, zombie..._

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**:End Notes:**

First: for those who haven't heard the song "Zombie", I'd suggest doing so. I personally think the lyrics make a lot more sense when put to music. One of the themes I was trying to get across in this little ficlet was the horrors of war as seen on both sides, and of course Quatre the sweet, kind pacifist is a perfect example of this, I think, because he goes to fight anyway - and later, he totally cracks and starts killing everyone.

Second: I had to think long and hard about how Quatre's inner monologue would express disbelief (aka "Oh my god"). There was also the connection, sort of, to religion that I was trying to make - I decided to use Quatre saying "gods" as a very very general phrase. I didn't particularly mean to have him refer to any religion in particular, though I thought about it initially I concluded that that would be a whole new can of worms and my 'theme' was already pretty broad. I know lots of people write Quatre as Muslim, and others put him as an Earth-based pagan type thing, but particular religion was meant to be irrelevent in this fic.

Thanks for reading!


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